Captured Tribute
by Elizabeth L. Holme
Summary: Eight years after "The Hunger Games" was released the epic series is about to come to an end. Or is it? Teens around the United States are disappearing and it isn't until a mysterious broadcaster takes over the networks does the world find out that The Hunger Games are about to become very real. In the POV of captured District 12 tribute, Emma Price.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: I have not attended a Broadway show nor have I been to New York.**

My name is Emma Price. I'm a senior in High School and I turn eighteen in three weeks on the day I graduate. I have a brother, Justin, who is younger than me by one year and my best friend. My parents own a local book store in the small town of Aurora, North Carolina where we have lived ever since I could remember. Spending the majority of my life surrounded by books has inspired me to write and when the summer is over I will attend the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. Other than Track, I am not very athletic, but my brother and I often go rock climbing together. I never liked hunting even though my Father occasionally does it and I have never killed another living thing in my life. Had...I had never killed another living thing in my life.

I'm telling you these things because I want you to know who I was before it all began. Before they had forced me to change...Before I became someone I never wanted to be. I fought against it. I tried to hold on to myself, but in the end they broke me. They chipped away everything until all I had left was only hard and cold. Who I was no longer exists and I will never be able to go back.

* * *

Eight years. Eight years had passed since "The Hunger Games" trilogy had begun under the careful hands of its creator, Suzanne Collins. It's amazing how much had happened in that time as a loyal fan base grew quickly and three blockbuster films had been released. The series had rocketed to fame, capturing audiences around the world and providing a new adventure for all to obsess over,but soon it will all end.

Soon "MockingJay part two" will be released to theatres and after only a few more months it will come out on Blu-ray. Once again an series will come to a close and fans everywhere will lament its passing. I can already hear their sadden moans, but I honestly don't blame them. Being a fan myself I already dreaded the inevitable end. It was hard enough letting go of "Harry Potter" and it still hurts to even think about "Doctor Who"'s twelfth regeneration.

However, the blow might not be so bad as it will be softened by the fact that I would be attending the "Mockingjay" New York premiere. I had won a pair of tickets by pure luck as all sweepstakes are won in the end and received a three night stay at a four star hotel with roundtrip airfare included. My Mother, who is also a fan of "The Hunger Games", came with me and after a two and a half hour flight we arrived in the great city that never sleeps. It was hard to contain my excitement as I caught my first glimpse of New York City, the home of Broadway and some of my favourite authors. This was the place I had always dreamed of living one day. It was a dream I had held on to when I was young and believed that every great writer came to live in New York. Couple this excitement with the fact that I would be walking the red carpet soon and I found that I was unable to stop smiling. In that one moment everything was perfect.

Unfortunately, as life moves on so do those perfect moments, no matter how hard we try to hold on to them. Surprisingly my moment lasted longer than I would have thought and it wasn't until the next night that it slipped from my fingers. We had spent our one free day exploring the city, visiting the Empire State Building, taking pictures of the Statue of Liberty, and doing other things that are extremely popular with tourists. The last thing on our "To Do" list was to see a Broadway production and we chose "The Lion King" without hesitation. I never got to see it that night. No one did.

We were making our way to our seats located on the second balcony and to the side where you had to squint to see the performance. Most every one else was already seated and the production was about to start. There was an energy in the air as the audience buzzed quietly with excitement. As we passed several rows of filled seats I couldn't help but pick out the differences in the people. There were the ones that regularly came to Broadway for a show who sat calmly as they waited, the ones that never wanted to come and were slouched in their seats looking bored, and of course the ones who were like us, sitting forward in their seats in giddy anticipation. I loved identifying each of them as it was minor habit of mine whenever I found myself in crowds.

Checking my ticket several times for my seat number, we finally stopped in shadowy area of the balcony where halogen light ropes lined the floors like glowing snakes. Mom glanced back at me and we traded a secret smile as we had discovered our seats to be blocked by ten others who were already seated. The space left for those to walk past was narrow and it was immediately apparent that we would have to crab walk awkwardly through one at a time.

My Mom leaned in close to me, keeping her eyes on our two lonely seats. "What do you think?" She asked in a hoarse whisper. "Would they move out of the way for us?"

I eyed the line of people who continued to ignore us, noting that the majority consisted of sour faced elderly. "Not even if we asked nicely." I murmured in response. "We might as well just go through and pray that we don't trip over them."

Mom nodded in agreement although her slight frown told me that she would rather try her idea first. With a little nudging I managed to get her to go first, stepping aside as those on the end thankfully got up and moved for her. Quietly I went to stand against the wall only just noticing the curtain covered doorway to my right that bore an exit sign above it. Mom was only half way to our seats when a hush came over the theatre and the curtains pulled back from the stage. I heard the first cry of the iconic opening song and the responding cheers from the audience as the performers gathered. Fascinated, I forgot about following my Mom to our seats and barely noticed those waiting for me to go past them.

The beat of the song heightened with the performers' voices until it was hard to hear anything else. That's when it happened. That's when I felt the unexpected grasp of rough hands come from behind me and begin to drag me towards the curtained door. It all happened so fast that no one was able to stop me from being carried away.

Frantically I struggled against their hold as they tried to gag me while continuing to carry me down a darkened hall. Wrenching my head back I connected with my captor's face and felt something crunch against my skull. Colours burst in my vision, but I felt myself falling from their grasp and I stumbled for the door. I pulled back the curtains and only had time to meet my Mom's eyes as she looked back for me before I felt arms wrap around me. I will never forget the look on her face as I was lifted violently from the ground. Her face drained instantly of colour as her expression shifted quickly from happiness to shock to devastating terror. All at once she began frantically fighting against the legs of the people blocking her, screaming for someone to help, but only those close by could hear her over the din. It was like a ripple effect as they saw what she saw and began to get up and chase after me and my kidnappers, but by then it was too late.

As the remaining, oblivious, audience surged to their feet to applaud the first performance I let out a scream that ripped at my throat and then every light in the theatre shut down. Impenetrable darkness engulfed us and only my scream's echoes were heard as the applause died out into the chaos of the theatre. It echoed as a message to everyone that something terrible had happened and that it only marked the beginning. By then I was struggling to breathe past the bloodied hand clamped painfully over my mouth as I felt myself be carried further away from Mom and from my life.

Something cold was jabbed against my neck and I felt the swift pinch of a needle and then I was gone. The last thing I heard as I spiraled into darkness was the frantic screaming of my Mom and the clanging of a heavy metal door.


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness surrounded me and bound me, making me feel as if I was suffocating. My entire body ached and it seemed to be controlled by a source on my neck. I tried to move, but something prevented me from doing so as it felt like my arms and legs were weighted down by lead. Quickly I gave up and focused on breathing as my lungs were beginning to burn from lack of proper air. With each laboured breath I tried to focus on my thoughts, to figure out why I was surrounded by darkness, and to remember where I had been before this had happened. Nothing came to me as my thoughts slipped through my fingers and drifted towards the edges of my mind where I could not reach them.

I'm not sure how long I lied like this, drifting in a state that I could only call my personal nightmare, but I could feel the time passing. I could feel it pass as slowly my limbs began to tingle with the sensation of pins and needles and my breathing became easier. It wasn't long before I realized that my eyes were closed, causing my darkness, but as hard as I tried I could not open them. I didn't force it as I had found out with my arms and legs that only time will allow me to open them. However, it seemed my thoughts were not aware of this as they continued to keep me from reaching anything near a solid conclusion as to what had happened to me. In all honesty, I was just grateful to even remember my name. Emma Price. No matter what, I had to hold on to that as it was the only thing anchoring me to my identity, as fuzzy as it was at the moment.

I heard a soft beep from somewhere to my right and the slight whoosh of something electronic moving, possibly a door opening. Instinctively, I turned my blind head towards the sound, feeling a burst of pins and needles erupt in the back of my neck. I winced, letting the uncomfortable sensation pass as I listened for the sound again. After a moment I could hear a pair of voices speaking, but they seemed distant and faded in and out as if I were hearing them through water.

_"Careful with this one, sir. She managed to break Officer Cantron's nose before they sedated her."_ Female, I noted, pleased that I was able to identify it without too much trouble.

_"I understand."_ replied a second, distinctly male voice that sounded gravelly with age. _"However, I am pleased to hear that she fought as it is what I was looking for when I chose her."_

Footsteps echoed strangely against the walls surrounding me as no doubt the two speakers entered the room I was in. There was the scrape of metal against the floor and I flinched away as I felt the warm presence of someone sitting close by to me. The person leaned in close and I could feel their moist breath fan over my face. It smelled sickly sweet as if they had eaten a bowl of rotten fruit before coming. Suddenly my hand was taken up by papery fingers that wrapped around me with solid strength and caused me to shiver with disgust.

_"They did such a marvellous job, didn't they?"_ commented the second voice. _"She is almost unrecognizable and yet they will know that it is her. They will know, because they will see it in her eyes...You may leave us, Captain."_

There was a slight whisper of clothing followed by the whoosh of the door closing and I realized that I was gradually getting my hearing back. A discovery that was soon overshadowed by something thin and cold being clasped around my wrist, the object being so tight that it pinched my skin. I felt a thin hand cup my cheek as the man turned my face towards him so that I received the full effect of his rotten breath.

_"I need you to open your eyes now."_ He ordered softly. _"Come now, Emma. I know you are awake so do not play with me. Open your eyes and look at me for I am the one who controls your fate."_

As if caught by a trance, I felt my eyes slowly open and I stared at the blurry image of the man sitting before me. He was dressed all in white except for a black tie and a black handkerchief folded neatly in his breast pocket. He was old with thinning, black and white hair and a neatly trimmed moustache that covered his thin upper lip. However, over everything else it was his eyes that caught me as they were deep blue and seemed to hold no life as if they were made of glass.

He smiled slightly when he saw me staring at him and then produced a small device with a lit screen that showed an activation code. Without saying a word, the man pressed enter. My reaction was immediate as my back arched with a current of electricity that suddenly ran through me and I opened my mouth in a silent scream. Through the tears that streamed down my face I could just barely see that he continued to smile and in that moment I hated him with every fiber in my screaming body. It was over almost as soon as it began, even though it felt like an eternity, and I slumped back onto the table, breathless and trembling. I wanted to sob, but it seemed that I was incapable of making anymore sound than a strangled whimper. If anything the electric shock sufficiently woke me up and I remembered everything that had happened, down to the very moment where I was jabbed in the neck.

"Did you feel the pain, Emma?" inquired the man, his voice sounding much clearer.

Quickly I nodded when I saw that his thumb hovered over the device's screen and again he smiled, pleased. With his free hand he lifted one of my twitching arms up and showed me the small, silver bracelet that encircled my wrist. Along its length was a black screen that showed a thin green line which was at this moment jumping frantically. My heart beat, I realized as I tasted blood from where I had bit my tongue earlier.

"I want you to remember that pain, Emma." He told me. "I want you to remember it whenever you feel..._tempted_ to discuss the world you came from. You see, that world no longer exists here as I have gradually removed the memory of it from my people. They only believe that Panem exists now and they only believe in the Hunger Games. Now so must you, Emma as you are my final Tribute."

"You're insane." I whispered as I began to grasp at what he was saying. "I don't belong in Panem. I'm not a-"

The rest was drowned out in a garbled scream as I felt the metal band shock my entire being. It was shorter this time, but the electricity felt like it had doubled to counter it. The smell of burnt hair lingered in the air as the flesh around the bracelet felt like it was on fire. Carelessly the man wrapped both his hands around mine and patted the bright red skin, causing it to hurt even more.

"Shhh." he soothed without any hint of emotion. "Yes, yes I know you are not a part of Panem. Why do you think I chose you and the eleven others like you in the first place? To show the world that it is no longer safe from the Games. If I were to continue using the children here in my Panem, no one else in the world will notice...But if I simply pluck twelve children out of the outside world and face them off against twelve of mine, everyone will notice. However, I can't have my twelve and the rest of my people knowing that there is something else outside of Panem which is why we have our little precaution measure right here." He tapped the band for emphasis and then rose elegantly from his seat. "I would wish you luck, but I am afraid your survival wouldn't serve my purposes as well as your death would."

There was another soft beep and a white, metal door behind him swiftly slid back into the chrome walls that surrounded us. Placing my hand across my chest, he turned to leave as two white and black clad guards came in. They lifted me roughly from the table and held me between them as I sagged from the effect of the shock bracelet and drugs. With some difficulty, I raised my head and stared at his retreating back, afraid to say anything more than a single word.

"Why?"

The man froze just as he stepped past the open doorway and he slightly turned his head back so that I saw a glimmer of hatred reflected deep in his cold eyes.

"Because they, _she_ had told me that it was impossible." He replied. "Because no one will be able stop me and...Because I can."

With that the door closed behind him, bringing with it my previous darkness. Bringing with it my own personal nightmare. Only I was awake now and my eyes were open and what I saw was something far worse than the darkness. What I saw was that the fictional Hunger Games had become very real and I was now a part of it.


	3. Chapter 3

They took me from the room through another door that slid open behind us and half carried, half dragged me down a long white hall with no distinguishing features. I wanted to resist them, to fight back and in fact my mind was screaming for me to do so, but it was no use. My body could not react as I was too weak from the aftereffects of the drugs they had used on me and from the electric bracelet. At least my mind was somewhat alert now. Maybe it wasn't fully awake, but it was enough for me to piece together my thoughts on what the strange man had said. No. He wasn't just a strange man. I knew who he was or who he was trying to be. President Snow, ruler of Panem and creator of the Hunger Games. The title would be fitting for him, except he had taken the role just a bit further by kidnapping his tributes. Of course he had already taken this one step further by actually taking the book and making it a reality.

Reaching the end of the hall, I was forced into what looked like a circular elevator that had only enough room for myself and the two guards. Silently, a chrome door slid shut and the elevator began to move down with a speed that made me feel slightly weightless. Before I could adjust myself to the feeling, the elevator came to a halt and I was pushed out into an open, cement room just as the door was opening. The guards did not follow me as they rode the elevator back up to wherever we had come from and I was left alone in a place that reminded me of an empty warehouse. Only I wasn't alone. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lights of the room I could see the figures of eleven others who were with me, all of whom were clothed in a simple blue robe that barely reached their knees. Looking down, I realized that I wore the same thing and instantly knew who the others were. They had also been kidnapped by the man who thought himself as President Snow and they were the ones who must survive a game that they had once thought was only fiction.

I could see them looking at me as I was the last to arrive. Their eyes, which were made dark by the shadows, were filled with varying degrees of fear and disbelief. I knew I reflected those same feelings in my own eyes and I instantly felt connected with the eleven who stood there even though we had never previously met. We were the twelve taken from our families and removed from our normal lives without any warning. We were the twelve who must face those from the suddenly real Panem with no hope for rescue. No one knew we were here. No one knew that we were going to be forced to kill or be killed and no one will ever know.

As I stared at the faces of those with me, I was caught by one young man who stood nearly opposite from myself and I felt a sickening dread settle in my stomach. Despite several differences that made me question it, I recognized the young man's face and the realization of it caused my chest to clench painfully as my heart skipped a beat. Without even thinking I began to stumble towards him, breaking into a run as my fear gave me strength. He looked up when he heard me running and the look of shock and recognition on his face only confirmed my fears. We collided then and I wrapped shaking arms around him as I felt him do the same with me. Tears streamed down my face, but they were not from happiness as I now held my little brother who had also been captured for the Games.

I felt the others staring at us, but I ignored them as I took his head in my hands to study his features.

"Look at you." I whispered, my voice clogged. "What have they done to you?"

I ran a thumb over Justin's cheek, wiping away a tear as I traced a faint scar that had not been there before. One other scar marked his face, running from his newly sculpted right eyebrow to the edge of his hair line. Despite the sheen of sweat that covered him and the drained colour from his face, I saw that he had a deep tan that matched his dark, shaggy hair. I brushed away the hair that hung over his eyes, remembering when he had muddy blond hair instead and lighter skin. At least his eyes were still the same bright blue that matched my own, but that almost made it harder to accept what had happened to him.

"What have they done to you?" I asked again, this time feeling anger slip into my voice. They had taken Justin. They had taken my little brother for the Games.

Justin smiled slightly, but the expression did not reach his eyes as they suddenly seemed cold. He was just as angry to see me in this situation as I was to see him. Justin was always acting as if he were the older sibling by being overly protective. Of course being six feet of lean muscle also helped to establish him as the older brother type.

"What have they done to me?" Justin murmured, holding me by my shoulders. "What about you? I can hardly recognize you anymore."

About to answer, I was stopped by the sounds of grating, concrete doors opening around us, releasing a bright, white light that nearly blinded me. There were twelve doors, one for each of us, and from each opening emerged two guards who began taking us away one by one. As a pair of guards came for us, Justin quickly wrapped me in his arms, holding me tight for what could be the last time.

"Listen carefully, Emma." he whispered urgently as the others began to panic and cry out. "We can't recognize each other outside of this room. If they know that we are related somehow they will rip us apart. You have to survive this, Emma. Do you understand?"

I nodded against his shoulder just as I felt two guards grab me from behind. Instinctively my arms locked around him and I kissed his cheek, tasting the tears that ran down both our faces. "You have to survive this too." I told him, almost pleading. "Justin, you have to stay alive...Please."

Suddenly we were torn apart and dragged to two different doors that could likely separate us forever. Something clicked inside me as I watched them take Justin away and I began to struggle against the guards' grasps. The same thing happened with him, but by then it was too late as we were already taken through our doors. Breaking from his captors' grips, Justin lunged for his door just as it was closing.

"Don't fight them, Emma!" he yelled desperately. "Don't show them your fear!"

The guards released me as my door closed shut and I fell against it, feeling almost numb to everything that had happened. I could still hear the screams of the others as they were dragged away, but I no longer cared about them. They had taken my brother. The only one I would have given my life to protect. I shuddered, realizing that soon I might have to.

"Well, well, well." trilled a high pitched voice from behind me. "Aren't you a pretty little thing."

Slowly I turned against the door and met the gazes of three vibrantly dressed creatures standing over me, clasping their hands in delight. A woman with bright yellow hair and dressed in a form fitting blue dress, stood in the middle of the group, smiling widely and showing perfectly white teeth. Delicately, she took me by my hands and had me stand up before her so that she could wipe away my tears with a heavily scented handkerchief. The two by her sides, who looked to be two men, began circling me as if they were studying some rare creature.

"My name is Prema." the woman said with a flourish of her now damp handkerchief. "I will be your stylist for the Hunger Games. Come, precious. Let us prepare you for the opening ceremonies"

* * *

**New York, New York:**

"Hold on just a little longer." Alice Royal called out to her friends who stood in the middle of Time Square.

Carefully she aimed her smartphone at the three girls smiling and waving at her, positioning the camera app just right so that she could capture the Coca-Cola sign behind them. Satisfied at last, Alice lightly touched the screen and heard the responding animated snap as she took their picture. With a smile, she lowered her phone to view the finished product as her three friends gathered around, but the picture would not show. Suddenly her screen went black as well as every other screen in Time Square as if someone had thrown a switch, plunging the area in semi darkness. Instantly every person halted in what they were doing as they stared in confusion at their unresponsive phones or at the dead screens. Cars screeched to a halt and the sound of countless doors opening and shutting echoed all around them.

Within seconds of the sudden blackout, blue words began to appear on every screen that was present: "The World Is Watching."

After a moment the words blinked out and everyone was bathed in the bright light of the screens as they showed two men sitting behind a desk, narrating what looked like a parade.

**Aurora, North Carolina:**

Sally Price sat with her head held in her hands, wishing she could cry but knowing that she could not. She needed to stay strong, to stay aware of things and not turn into a complete mess. She could become a complete mess later when she was alone in her room with no one else to watch her. Her husband, David sat beside her, slowly rubbing her back as he conversed with the head of the Police Department over their two missing children.

It was one thing to have to see your only daughter be abducted and be unable to stop it. It was an entirely different thing to tell your husband and find out your son had been stolen as well on the same night no less. Sally almost couldn't comprehend it as only twelve hours beforehand she had been in New York and had two children. Now they were both gone and she couldn't understand why.

"I'm afraid we can't help you further, Mr. Price." said Chief Barker sadly. "The nature of your children's kidnapping has led us to submit the case to the FBI since it will more or less be something that involves a ransom. I wish we could do more, but it's better in their hands."

"I understand." David replied wearily. "Can you just...give us their number so we can keep in touch."

Chief Barker nodded and began writing down on a yellow sticky note when a young police officer entered the room. The officer leaned down and whispered in the Chief's ear who absently listened as he tore off the sticky note and handed it to David. Suddenly he straightened in his seat as something the officer said caught his attention.

"All the screens?" he questioned hoarsely.

The officer nodded and Chief Barker rose abruptly from his seat and swiftly left the room, followed by the officer. Sally and David were not far behind him as they entered the large main room of the police department. Everyone in there was silent as their attention was trained on several television sets that lined one wall, all of which held the same image. Music blared from the screens as what looked like twelve chariots pulled by horses were drawn out before cheering crowds. As two men kept up a lively banter on the parade, the camera shifted over the faces of the chariots' occupants. Gradually the line of chariots came to a halt around a towering building that held an open balcony lined with seated men and women wearing green and black robes.

After a moment the music fell silent and an older man dressed all in white stepped up to a stone podium to address the crowd.

"Welcome to the eighth annual Hunger Games!" He paused with satisfied smile, waiting for roaring crowd to settle down. "As you know, each year we take one male and female tribute from each district to compete for honour and glory and the chance for everlasting fame. This year was different as we had made the selection private up until now. May I introduce to you the brave young men and women who are this years tributes."

As the crowds cheered once more, the cameras zoomed in on each and every face, pausing just long enough for the audience to get a good look. Those in the police station shifted nervously as the faces passed, most showing teens who could barely contain their fear. When the cameras had reached the male tribute of District Four an audible gasp was heard and Sally stumbled towards the screens with David right behind her. Although he was different she had recognized him almost immediately. She had seen him in his eyes.

David rounded on the room, pointing towards the screen. "That was our son!" he shouted. "What the hell is our son doing there?!"

"In one week," continued the speaker. "Our tributes will enter the Games where only one can win."

"Oh my God." David spun around at the sound of his wife as the Police Department erupted into a frenzy and saw Sally staring at him with tears flowing down her face. Her hand was pressed against a screen even though the image had switched to the two happy narrators as they expressed their feelings over the opening ceremonies.

"David, I saw her." she whimpered. "They have Emma too."

**The Pentagon:**

"Find out what the hell is going on!" ordered the Secretary of Defence, Roger Wilson. "Now! Before we lose the connection!"

The tech room at the Pentagon was in absolute chaos as each screen portrayed what could be the greatest threat the United States had ever faced. The Hunger Games. Wilson stared grimly out over it all, struggling to stay calm. Several calls had come in when the tributes were shown, each claiming that on tribute or another was a family's missing child. The last had come in for both the District 4 boy and the District 12 girl. Siblings, captured on the same day just hours before. In all honesty, Wilson knew exactly how these families felt as he had recognized the District 9 tribute as his daughter. He had known it was her as soon as he saw her wide, terrified eyes.

"Do we have their signal yet?!" He barked out over the noise.

"No, sir." replied a technician that stood next to him. "Something is blocking it, but this block is different. We can't breach it, sir. It's not even encoded."

"Just break through the damn thing." Wilson responded gruffly, feeling his face flush. "We need to find wherever _they_ are so we can get everyone ho-"

His words died out before he could even complete them as the screens began to flicker, causing the images to look distorted.

_"H-Happy Hunger-ger Games-Games."_ jittered an announcer with slick blue hair. _"And ma-ay t-the odds be-e ever in your-your fav-or..."_

"May the odds be ever in your favour." agreed a gravelly voice as the screens went black.

Suddenly the man in the white suit appeared, smiling from every available screen as the room grew absolutely silent. Gripping the platform's railing, Wilson leaned out towards the closest screen as he studied every single detail about the man. This was the one who had stolen his daughter. This was the man he was going to hunt down. A woman stepped up behind him and silently handed him a slip of paper with a message written on it: _Connection lost. Recording._

"You must know by now that twelve of your own have been selected to compete in the Hunger Games." said the man. "They will be set against twelve of my own-"

**New York, New York:**

"-Where they must fight to survive or otherwise be killed. Only one can win. You cannot find them. You cannot save them."

**Vancouver, Canada:**

"When the Games begin the whole-"

**Berlin, Germany:**

"-World-"

**Hong Kong, China:**

"-Will-"

**London, Great Britain:**

"-Be-"

**Aurora, North Carolina:**

"-Watching."

**The Pentagon:**

"You said that it could not be done. You said that this will never happen and so now, every year, there will be the Hunger Games. Every year twelve more of your own will be selected to compete...Let the Hunger Games begin!"


	4. Chapter 4

"That wasn't so bad."

I glanced over to the handsome young man who stood beside me in the chariot as we were slowly drawn into the towering tribute building. He wore nothing but stiff black pants that sparkled like granite, the contours of his chest exposed to the warm night and glistening with a fragrant oil. Black hair fell over his face, lightly brushing over prominent cheek bones and an angular chin that was somewhat clenched. Ronen Maxwood, the male tribute of District 12 was staring at me expectantly and with an expression of thoughtfulness in his coal black eyes.

Quickly I turned away without responding since my heart had managed to lodge itself in my throat, making it nearly impossible for me to speak. Of course I was also remembering what Justin had told me and not speaking was about the only way I could find to hide my fear. The young man soon turned away from me, his eyes guarded as the previous thoughtfulness faded away. I breathed a small sigh of relief when the great black doors closed behind us and relaxed my shaking grip around the sparkling black dress I wore. The opening ceremonies had felt so surreal when we had first entered the blazing lights and heard the cheering crowds. It was like I had suddenly stepped right into the books or the movies and I suppose, in a way, I had.

My stomach clenched at the thought and I felt sick as I stared around at the other twenty two tributes who were being helped down from their chariots. It was easy to spot the ones who had been stolen, captured to play a game that would likely end in their death. They were the ones who were pale, ashen as they gazed around in varying degrees of terror. They were the ones who knew the truth about what was happening and could not tell anyone for fear that their electric bracelets might go off. Then there were the ones who believed only in Panem and had supposedly grown up with the Hunger Games. The Careers. They looked so confident and strong compared to the rest of us who quite frankly resembled trembling animals who had been cornered in the hunt.

There was only one exception however. As a group of handlers and guards came towards our chariot, I gazed across the dim room to where Justin stood. A tall, thin girl with raven black hair stood next to him, her porcelain face turned slightly away while she studied the others just like every other Career. Briefly I caught my brother's eyes and felt comforted by the connection, feeling awful at the same time. All too quickly he turned away and our connection was broken as he effortlessly assumed an indifferent expression. It was so easy for him not to look afraid and I wondered if I would ever be able to do the same. At the moment I felt just like the rest of the stolen, pale and weak. An easy prey.

Two men climbed into the back of our chariot and began removing the chains that secured us from falling. At least that is what we were told when we had been herded into our respective places. However, I knew otherwise. The chains that they had clipped around my waist were just another one of the faux President Snow's precaution measures. Several curses flew through my head towards his memory, all of which I carefully kept silent in case he was listening somehow. The last thing I needed was to fall into a twitching mess in front of everyone present.

"You know, I'm kind of glad they tied us down like that." Ronen remarked, lithely jumping down to the ground as the handlers unlocked my chains. "Otherwise I'm not sure if I would have been able to keep upright."

I frowned slightly at him, questioning his continued attempts to talk with me. Why was he trying to be friendly if within a week we would be fighting each other to the death. I paused, cynically rethinking that thought into something a bit more realistic. The scenario would most likely be more along the lines of me running for dear life with Ronen and a pack of Careers calling out for my blood. I grimaced, feeling my stomach roll with the image. Probably not the best idea to think about that now that I was surrounded by my potential killers who looked like they could smell fear.

Grudgingly I allowed for one of the guards take hold of me, knowing that I could only make things worse for myself if I refused, and was lifted from my place on the chariot. The wide skirt of my dress billowed out around me when I landed, the delicate fabric drifting dreamily in the air before settling with hardly a whisper. For a moment I felt a thrill run through me at the movement of the black dress before I was reminded of the fact of why I was wearing it and I quickly fell back into my previous gloom.

Four guards escorted us to the elevators that would transport us to our tribute floors, two of the guards keeping closer to me than they did with Ronen. Of course I was the bigger flight risk. With my back rigid, I concentrated on keeping my chin up and my expression strong all the while burying trembling hands in the folds of my skirt. I could feel the eyes of the Careers watching my every movement, even Ronen who walked beside me, completely relaxed. It felt as if I were being sized up for their next meal and it was all I could do to suppress the shivers that threatened to crawl up my back. When we reached the open doors of the elevator I gladly stepped in and watched with relief as the doors silently slid shut against the guards and Careers. Now I only had Ronen to deal with.

With every tribute floor quickly rushing past, it seemed that the dark young man had finally given up on our one-sided conversation. Instead he leaned against the wall opposite from me with muscular arms crossed over his bare chest. Even with my refusing to look away from the closed doors I could still feel him there as my cheeks grew warm beneath his dark gaze. It was unnerving to be alone with him, the small space filling up with the tense electricity between us, and I almost wished that he would speak again.

When it had come to the point where I could not stand the silence any longer the doors slid open to the twelfth floor and we were greeted by our handler, Emmet Stone. Except for his certain fondness for crisp clothes and form fitting vests, there wasn't much about him that screamed the Capitol. Not like the others I had seen out in the crowd who all looked like the stepped right out of the pages of Collins's book. Although fairly young, he had streaks of grey and white running through his thick, otherwise dark hair just over his ears and wore a neatly trimmed goatee that belonged to someone in his fifties. His fashion taste was admittedly classy with a plain white dress shirt whose sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and black pants that matched his opened, purple vest.

Emmet stared shrewdly at us as we stepped from the elevator and stood before him.

"Not bad." He told us after a short pause. His voice was like velvet and would have been enjoyable if he weren't a part of the faux President Snow's sick world. "The crowds liked your entrance, but they weren't jumping out of their seats for you. We'll have to do better when it comes time for the interviews."

Reaching out, he cupped my cheek with a perfectly manicured hand and used a thumb to lift one corner of my mouth into a half smile. "Of course giving them a smile or two isn't going to hurt either. You won't win anyone over with your scowling, Sweetie."

With some effort I forced the other corner of my mouth into a full smile, silently wishing I could bite his thumb off. I could hear Justin's words echoing in my head. _Don't fight them._ It was the only thing keeping me calm.

"We'll work on it." Emmet sighed, releasing me.

My frown returned immediately and I followed the irritating man as he led the way to a brightly lit dining room. Two others were already seated at the table which had been laid out with a meal that smelled wonderful. I recognized Prema's bright hair long before she turned around to smile with her heavily painted face. The other one I knew to be Ronen's stylist, but only because I had seen the thin, orange man dousing Ronen's chest in oil.

We sat down after a few articulated words of appreciation over our entrance in the opening ceremonies. Unlike Emmet, Prema didn't seem to think that I had been scowling at the crowds and instead proclaimed me to be looking very regal. It was a nice comment except that it had been ruined by the amused look Ronen gave me from where he sat across the table. Flushing deeply, I dipped my head towards my plate of steaming food, refusing to look at anyone. Even though my churning stomach kept me from feeling hungry, I picked up a fork and listlessly began eating as an excuse to continue staring at my plate.

The others' conversations soon took over and I was left alone with the thoughts of my captured existence. After a while, I excused myself from the table in the hopes of finding a way out of my glorified holding cell. It was a silly plan, but at the moment I had become desperate as talk had circled around to our skill sets in the games. I knew I had none and the thought only added to my terror. My flimsy attempt at an escape was soon foiled as what I quickly knew to be an Avox silently came forward to lead me to my rooms. Of those remaining at the table, only Prema wished me a goodnight's rest while Ronen stared and Emmet and the male stylist quietly conversed.

As soon as the door to the large bedroom slid shut I sank to my knees, physically and emotionally spent. It was hard to imagine that not long ago I had been in New York, going to see a Broadway show with my Mom. I buried my face in the billows of my skirt, no longer holding back the tears that had threatened to fall in front of the others. It was a comforting release to allow my emotions to overwhelm me. I might as well get it out now when no one could see me rather than have the others judge my weakness.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm not sure how long I sat there, pressed against the door of my opulent prison and staining the silks of my black dress, but as time passed I knew that I had to move. It was silent behind my doors, the others having retreated to their rooms perhaps hours beforehand, and I could sense the emptiness of the apartment beyond. Silently I rose from the floor and wiped at my face, brushing away the salty trails left by my tears. Slipping out of the black heels Prema had given me, I padded across the soft carpets to a line of closets set into the far wall of the room and started going through them in the dark. I grabbed the first things that felt like a pair of cotton pants and shirt, drawing them out as I hastily unhooked the clasp at the back of my dress. The black silk fell down around me with a rustling whisper and I kicked it away, completely disregarding Prema's wishes for me to keep it "as immaculate as possible." Oops.

About to dress, I caught a glimpse of someone standing right beside me, a girl who wore nothing at all and had flaming red hair that stood out against ghostly pale skin. A strangled gasp escaped my lips as I tripped over myself to get away and I pressed a shaking hand to my mouth to keep from making another sound. The stranger did the exact same thing and then we stood there, staring into each other's eyes, hers a deep stormy blue that were rimmed read from crying. My hand dropped when I saw her eyes and the realization of who I was gazing at suddenly hit me like a brick wall, the intensity of it knocking the air from my lungs in a huff. It was a mirror set into the closet door. I was staring at myself...But it couldn't be me. Tentatively I stepped towards my reflection tugging at a curling lock of hair that was not my own and tracing out the difference in features on my face. I looked thinner and no longer possessed the round cheeks from my childhood that I had learned to accept. My nose was straighter and perfectly set over velvet lips that were at that moment pulled down into a frown. The only thing that resembled who I was were my eyes which thoroughly reflected the shock and disgust I felt over my transformation.

_"They did such a marvellous job, didn't they? She is almost unrecognizable and yet they will know that it is her. They will know, because they will see it in her eyes..."_

The words came unbidden to my mind and when they did they brought with them a solid weight that settled on my body and left an unsavoury taste in my mouth. They had changed me. No, they had changed the way I looked, but they had not changed who I was. _Yet._ whispered a nasty voice that dwelled in the back of my mind. Terrified by this thought, I shoved it away and turned my back on my reflection as I quickly dressed and slammed the door shut with a foot. That wasn't going to happen. I wouldn't let them turn me into something I was not.

Tying on a loose robe I had found next to the king sized bed, I crossed to the door and cautiously reached for the handle, keeping an eye on the wristband that portrayed my anxious heartbeat. In one swift movement I turned the handle and yanked open the door so that I stared into the dark hallway beyond. Nothing happened. Steeling myself, I stepped out from the room and again waited for the sound of an alarm or the mind numbing shock of my bracelet. So far I wasn't quivering in a heap and the apartment was completely silent, the stillness broken only by the eerie chime of an unseen clock announcing the hour. It was more than I could ask for and I quickly darted from the room, the flowing fabric of my robe flapping at my heals as I rounded the corner to the floor's elevator.

I caught hold of the seam in the elevator's doors and tried to wiggle my fingers between them so that I might pry them open. A hopeless act, but at the moment I was desperate and there wasn't a button in sight that would allow me to operate the elevator. The doors wouldn't budge and eventually I gave up, resting my forehead against the steel surface and blowing on my inflamed fingers which throbbed from the failed effort to force open the doors. There was a whirring sound to my right and I looked up into the lengthening lens of a camera perched at the top corner of the elevator. Briefly, I contemplated flipping off those who watched me and was only stopped by the slightest of sparks that was emitted from my bracelet. The tiny jolt was a clear message from the ones who trapped me in the faux Panem. _We are always watching you._

Scowling darkly, I headed back through the apartment, pausing momentarily at several windows to gaze out at the brilliant city below and trying any door I came to for some way out. So far no door would open and as time passed, I could feel my frustrations building inside my chest like a quiet flame waiting to turn into a roaring blaze. _Not yet._ I told myself, turning down a long hall and skipping up a short flight of stairs. _There's still a chance._

I grasped at the handle of the single door at the top of the stairs and slowly turned it, by now assuming that it would be just like all the others. Locked. I barely believed it when the handle easily turned all the way down instead of half way and my heart picked up a beat as I prepared to throw my weight against the door. With a heavy breath, I pushed forward and ran through the open doorway from the force I had used, letting go of the door as I passed so that it slammed back on the smooth walls of the outside building. Bright light blinded me for just a half second before my eyes slowly adjusted and I looked out on the short balcony which stood hundreds of feet above the bustling Capitol shining below. A light breeze caused my robe to flap around me and I caught the scent of something warm drifting in the night sky, like it was humidity layered with an unfamiliar spice. Plants twisted into unique forms and heavy with strange fruit were placed around the stone edges of the balcony, providing an exotic barrier that was only cut short at the wall directly before me.

Running up to the very edge of the balcony, I stepped onto the raised wall and reached a hand out to a night sky that had been robbed of its stars by the blazing lights of the city. My arm wasn't even fully extended when my fingers pressed against an invisible force field that emitted a pulse when I made contact with it. My head dipped and I felt my frustrations quickly grow to anger, the fire burning a hole in my chest and drawing my hands into fists. Trapped. I was trapped again and there was nothing I could do about it. What was worse was that just a few stories below me was my younger brother who I couldn't even contact for fear that they might find out and kill us. Of course weren't they already going to do that? Wasn't this just our holding pens where we could wait in comfort for our slaughter?

Anger flared inside me and I jerked my head up, slamming my fist into the invisible wall holding me captive, an enraged cry escaping my lips. Instantly I was thrown back from the ledge and I landed at the base of a tree three feet away, my impact knocking down several round fruit. In a resentful daze, I glared up at the shield which had erupted into a thousand white spider web cracks that raced up and around a dome like lightning. The shield settled down within seconds and resumed its translucent appearance which only managed to irritate me further. Unwittingly my fingers wrapped around the rough surface of a fallen fruit and I stood up from the tree to hurl it at the invisible force field. The round fruit connected with the shield and immediately bounced back into my hand. Without even pausing I threw the fruit again and once more caught it before repeating the act. Effortlessly catching the fruit for the sixth time, I gave it an extra spin, feeling a joyless release as the shield let out an angry buzzing and lit up the night sky. However, the spin tossed the fruit far out beyond my reach and I turned to watch it bounce, roll, and land in the hands of Ronen who stood just past the balcony's open door. The young man straightened from his crouch, thoughtfully surveying the bruised surface of my abused fruit. Without a word or warning he threw the makeshift ball in my direction with a force that completely took me by surprise. Flinching away from the missile, I barely caught it with both my hands and I took a step back to keep from falling off balance.

"Nice catch." He commented with a mild interest. Slowly he came forward, circling me ever slightly as his dark eyes traced out my panting form.

I scowled, turning so that I would always face him. "What are you doing here?"

A simpering smile twisted his lips and he brushed part of my hair back as he walked around. "I have always been here." Ronen replied, his voice husky. "You were just too busy to notice what was right under your noise." He reached to brush my nose to demonstrate, but pulled back with a dark amusement when slapped at his hand. "The question should really be, what are _you_ doing here, Emma?"

"I just wanted some fresh air." I replied curtly, walking out from his circle to toss the fruit at the shield again. "I was feeling confined."

"Liar." Ronen caught the fruit on its return before I even had a chance to grab for it. "You were looking for a way out."

"Well, wouldn't you?" I questioned, desperation leaking into my voice.

"What makes you think I haven't already tried?" He threw the fruit, caught it, and handed it to me. "Trust me, every tribute in the last eight years has come out for some "fresh air" and we're no different. We just have to accept it and move on."

I stared at the fruit, my anger suddenly deserting me. "I can't accept it." I whispered, thinking of how silly it was discussing a game that should have never existed with someone I couldn't tell that there was another world beyond Panem. "Because I'm afraid that as soon as I do, I'll no longer know who I am. They can't just take my identity and replace it with one of theirs."

"Why not?" murmured Ronen. "They've already done it with eight Hunger Games champions. So what makes you think that they can't change you?"

I felt the heaviness of my words being lost on the young man who could not know of my awful secret existance. He couldn't know what I truly meant by them and maybe that was a good thing. They were always watching. I let the fruit fall from my fingers and roll down my pant legs to the ground where it released a trail of dark juice all the way to the balcony wall. I stared at the trail for a moment, watching the lights flicker along its length and bitterly imagining it be a line of blood. How long would it be until I was staring at my own blood?

Sullenly I turned away and went back inside, vaguely aware of Ronen gliding quietly by my side. In that moment I was resigned to the fact that I was trapped with no way out, but soon it would be a new day and there could be so many chances to slip away in the training arena.


	6. Chapter 6

"For the next four days you will train here and learn all the basics to surviving. You will participate in weapons training, trapping, plant identification, and other such workshops."

I ignored the lead instructor as he informed us of the rules in training, choosing instead to scan the faces of all those present. Dressed in blood red, skin tight clothes, the Careers seemed much more dangerous than I had originally thought, most of them reaching well above my own five foot eight. Standing next to them were their female or male counterparts, trembling in the same clothes which somehow made them seem less than formidable. They were the Captured, the Others and we all knew that we were screwed. They didn't even try to hide this fact, their fear radiating in the open training room until it was almost tangible. I prayed that I didn't look like them, that I actually looked like my brother who was nearly unrecognizable and was holding himself up with the confidence of a Career. The Others just painted targets on their backs with their obvious terror. You could tell by the way the Careers looked at them. Like they were eyeing fresh meat and wondering how exactly they were going to butcher them.

"Remember," concluded the instructor, snapping my attention back towards him. "There is more out there that can kill you than just each other so I suggest you give each workshop some time."

With that the tributes, or at least most of the tributes, dispersed in various directions, leaving a small group of quivering Captured to huddle in the centre of the room. Justin wasn't among them and I saw his hulking figure gravitate towards the weapons workshop with a majority of the Careers, chatting and laughing as if he really were one of them. I stared after him in some confusion and then back to the Captured watching as some began to cry and I questioned what I should do. It turned out that I didn't have to think long as I felt a slight tug on my sleeve and was willingly led away by Ronen towards a smaller weapons area that featured an array of short swords and knives.

"Emmet wants us to train together." Ronen explained, positioning me in front of a training dummy twenty steps away. "Especially since he learned how well you can throw which you forgot to mention to him."

Selecting a group of thin knives with black leather handles, Ronen passed four to me and then stepped in front of his own target, barely taking a breath before lodging his knives directly into the dummy's chest. It was fast, faster than what I could see and it sent chills running down my spine as I unwittingly imagined myself in the dummy's place. I heard a squeaking whimper from where the Captured sat, but I refused to turn around to meet their terrified gazes, knowing that I would lose it once I did.

"So what?" I asked, attempting to sound comfortable with what Ronen had just done. "Emmet wants you to babysit me or something?"

There was a flicker of a half grin. "He wants me to keep an eye on you and tell him what you are capable of since you won't say anything. It's what could keep you alive."

My laugh was bitter and it echoed against the cement rafters above. I barely noticed that I had attracted the attention of who I thought to be Gamemakers milling around on a balcony above. "Right," I replied, my laugh quickly dying into a harsh tone. "It could keep me alive just long enough for you to skewer me."

Handling one of the knives, I quickly pulled back and threw it towards my dummy, feeling a release of frustration as the blade left my fingers. There was an awkward thunk and the dummy spun over as the knife hit it squarely on the shoulder and knocked it to the ground. Just like my laugh, the sound of the collapsing dummy filled the training room like a clap of thunder and I straightened from my stance, surprised. I had never expected to actually hit the thing, let alone with enough force to send it tumbling to the ground where its head popped of. Granted, my hitting it in the shoulder had more to do with its exaggerated display than I did, but that's not what the others saw. I could see it in the Careers' faces which varied in expressions from smirking to an impressed acknowledgement that clearly showed they thought of me as a real competitor. I could also see it in the pale faces of the Captured. They didn't look at me as one of them, but as someone who could kill them. It made me sick.

I threw the remaining knives to the ground, ignoring how they stuck deep into the mat, and stalked off to the furthest corner of the training room, feeling a clammy sweat break across me. This wasn't what I should be doing. I shouldn't be training to kill someone just because it might mean my survival. I wasn't a killer and they weren't going to turn me into one if I could help it. I was vaguely aware of Ronen keeping close to me and I angrily rounded on him when I had reached a vacant workshop for snare making.

"I'm not going to kill anyone." I told him, my voice heated and low. "I'm not going to butcher, trap, pull apart-That isn't me. I'm not one of you." I waved a hand at his built body and capable hands, frustrated that he only just stood there and watched me. "I'm one of them...I'm one of the others."

Ronen didn't answer, choosing to slowly sink down on his haunches and begin work on a grouping of snares. I stared at him for some time, growing frustrated every minute that he didn't reply to my confession. I'm not sure what I wanted him to say or what I wanted him to do, but I knew I wanted something more than his compliant silence. Maybe I was just waiting for him to understand that I was different from the other tributes, that something wasn't right for my being there. The minutes slipped by and slowly the Careers gave up watching me for some other little surprise skill while Ronen continued to work on his snares. At last I gave up and sank to my knees next to him, receiving the quiet instructions from a trainer on how to tie a rabbit snare.

"If you won't kill, then you won't kill." Ronen murmured when the trainer stepped away. "There are other ways of surviving the games...And I promise that I won't hurt you while we're in the arena."

"I know." I replied softly and I actually meant it. Somehow I knew that he wouldn't be the one to kill me. It was like a gut instinct.

"I can't say the same for the others." He told me after a moment, looking up to meet my eyes. "They will come after you and when they do, I won't stop them."

"I know."

He held our gaze for just a breath longer and then abruptly got up to return to the weapons workshop where the rest of the Careers were enthusiastically mutilating the dummies. I watched his back for a moment before returning to my snares, quickly pushing away any thoughts of trust that had begun to build towards him. Trust was the last thing I needed. Trust was what would most likely get me killed in the long run or even in the short run.

My fingers had been rubbed raw by the time I had perfected the snares and I moved on to the fire workshop, knowing that I was severely lacking in that department. Justin was there, building a moderate blaze while he flirted shamelessly with his female counterpart. For a moment he looked up at me and I saw my brother and then he looked back to his companion, laughing at some cruel statement she had made towards the Captured. It was unnerving seeing Justin like this, but I knew that it was necessary in order for us to survive this and I ignored him as I started on my own fire. I had just produced a spark and was blowing on my pile of kindling when I heard the harsh voice of the girl rise up in an ugly snicker.

"Good god, why are they always crying? I can't wait to end their misery."

Justin chuckled and I glanced up at him, slightly appalled. "Look, that one girl is having fits." He replied, nodding to someone behind me. "Why do you think she's holding her wrist like that?"

"Maybe she lifted it and it broke." sneered his companion.

About to snap at them, I caught a meaningful look from Justin who nodded his head ever so slightly back towards the Captured. His look disappeared almost instantly and I would have missed it if I had blinked, but it was enough to understand his message. Quickly, I stamped out the beginnings of my flames and left them, casually crossing the room until I had reached the Captured tributes. Just like Justin had pointed out, one of the girls in particular had broken down in such a way that it looked like she had gone completely insane. The others stood of just to the side, some of them weeping as they watched the dummies be dismembered while the rest stared at the girl with uncertainty. Glancing towards the Careers, I saw that they watched us in anticipation and laughing at the wails of the girl who was clearly in pain.

I looked back towards the others and beckoned sharply. "All of you, get over here and help me block her." I ordered, but they still seemed unsure. I pressed my lips together, fixing them with a steady gaze._ "Now."_

They moved instantly on my second try, gathering in around us until we were blocked off from the view of the Careers. Carefully I reached out towards the girl, taking a gentle hold on her wrist which she had pressed against her chest as she rocked back and forth. She whimpered when I touched her and when I drew her wrist away I saw that her bracelet had recently given her a nasty shock, the skin around it a bright red and smelling of burnt hair. I whistled softly, realizing that this had not been the first time and that she must have been shocked on more than one occasion. Working up a good amount of saliva, I spat onto the skin covering her wrist and began working it in so that it would soothe the flaming flesh.

"You're going to be okay." I assured the girl, adding another layer of spit. "My name is Emma...I'm like one of you."

I showed her and the others my bracelet, grateful that the girl's tears had died down.

"Caitlyn." murmured the girl in response, wiping her face with her free hand. "My name is Caitlyn."

"Caitlyn, can you tell me what happened? Why you were shocked like this?"

It was a young man with bleach blond hair that answered. "She started talking about things." He told me, keeping his voice low. "You know, about the things _out there_. Says she has someone who can find us."

Caitlyn nodded with a sniffle, her dark brown curls bobbing with her movement. "My Mother, she works with the-"

Quickly I covered her mouth with a hand, cutting her off before she could go too far and get herself shocked again. The others shifted nervously, glancing around them as if somehow the faux President Snow would still be able to know what she was going to say.

"You have to be careful here." I reminded her and everyone around me. "This isn't just some sort of story we're reading or a game. Right now this is real and if we do anything to upset them we will be killed."

"Does it matter?" questioned the blond young man. "We're still going to be killed. Because of _them_." He nodded towards the Careers who were beginning to jeer at us. "If we try to escape we die. If we go into the arena we die."

There was a collective hitch in breathing and I shot a glare at the young man, silently warning him to shut up before he could scare the rest any further. He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, but did not say another word. It was Caitlyn that broke the silence, asking a question that we were all secretly wondering.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

Gently I took her hand and looked into each and every one of the Captured's fear filled eyes. "We fight." I told them simply. "We stick together and we show them that even though they took us away from our homes they will _never_ be able to change us. Those Careers? They think that they can kill us, they believe they can scare us, but when the time comes they'll know that they underestimated who we are."

"Are we going to kill them?" asked a girl who couldn't have been more than twelve years old.

I shook my head, glancing to where rows of weapons shone back at us. "We're going to survive."


	7. Chapter 7

There was movement after that first day in training. We no longer sat in a huddled group together, awaiting the inevitable slaughter like captured animals. I trained with Ronen in weapons, honing my skills in knife throwing and learning how to handle a sword. The others took my lead after what I had told them, spreading out in the training arena and learning whatever they could. It wasn't apparent at first, but as the days went by I realized that the others, the captured tributes...They saw me as their leader. I had become their beacon of hope and it wasn't long before the Careers picked up on this as well. We had obtained larger targets for ourselves, but that didn't matter because we had learned to fight. We weren't going to lay down and die for their enjoyment. Not anymore.

However, only four days of training could prepare you for so much. Looking out over the others on the last day of training I knew that we weren't ready, but we had to be. We had no choice. Who else was going to protect us from the Games? Our only protection came from each other. The Gamemakers' evaluations were only so many hours away and then it was only a day or two until the Games. To hell with the pregame interviews and the false host, Ceaser Flickerman. Those were just for Panem's show and Flickerman? He was just a replica of the character, held up by the puppet strings controlled by the faux President Snow. The real focus was on surviving the arena and finding a way out before we were all killed.

There was a tight sound of a bow being drawn and Clayton Burrow, the tall blond youth who doubted our survival, released an arrow from beside me. The arrow zipped across the thirty yard space of room, barely making more than a whistling, and lodged itself directly into the heart of a dummy. Half the shaft was buried and I imagined if someone looked at the back of the dummy they would see the point of the arrow head.

I raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."

Without waiting for a response I sent three knives after the arrow. They met the dummy with matching thuds, hitting the head, neck, and heart. The youth's arrow was split down the middle and my knife was buried to the hilt. A lucky shot, but one that worked to my advantage. I could feel the stares of the Careers burning holes into my back, but I ignored them, working to keep my hardened stare on the dead dummy. It was just a mask, but they didn't know that. Even Ronen believed that I had changed and had told Emmet of my newly gained skills. Lies. So many lies.

"They're wondering what we should do during the evaluations." Clayton murmured, drawing back his bow for a second time.

I waited until his arrow had lodged itself in the forehead of a second dummy. "We play it safe." I said. "Anything you're good at keep it to yourself. We can't let the Careers know that we might have a chance, because then they'll be that much stronger coming after us. Keep the scores low and they'll underestimate us."

I threw another knife, making sure that it went just off target and clattered against the wall. The sound of snickering drifted to us from behind where a group of Careers had stopped to watch and I allowed a small smirk to pull at my lips. Good. Let them believe that this was who I was. It would make it all that easier to trick them in the arena. I recognized Justin's familiar laugh in the group and forced myself not to turn around so my false appearance wouldn't crumble. It always did when I looked at him, because even though I knew he was acting it still felt like I had lost my brother.

"What about when we're in the games?" Clayton questioned, snapping me out of my dark trance. "What are we going to do then? Kill them?"

"We'll find a place to meet. Somewhere high up if possible and depending on what the arena will be like. If the Careers can't find us, eventually they will kill each other."

Briefly my gaze flicked over to Ronen training with a sword when I said this and I felt an unwanted pang of guilt coil in my gut. I shouldn't feel that way about him. He didn't belong with us, in our world, and I couldn't save him. I didn't want to. _Lies again._ whispered the grating voice of my conscience in the back of my head. Grabbing another set of knives from the nearby rack I sent them into the chests of three dummies, releasing my frustrations in the wonderful, exhilarating act.

It was Clayton's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What happened to playing it safe?"

"I slipped." I replied, frowning. "Go tell the others the plan and keep things quiet. They're always watching."

I remained quiet that night, never letting the others know what I had planned for the evaluations the next day and always avoiding their questions. I ignored Emmet completely, saving anything nice for Prema's superficial twittering about my interview dress. Ronen, I couldn't look at him and I couldn't understand why. I knew he looked at me, his dark gaze making me flush until gradually I felt that my face was blazing. The orange man merely sat in silence, keeping his attentions locked on the food in front of him which was fine by me. I never really enjoyed his presence anyway.

The dinner was barely finished when I abruptly got up and walked away before I could hear anymore aggravating comments from Emmet on my scowling. Not like he didn't manage to slide one in just as I was leaving the room. "Make sure to give the gamemakers a smile, _Sweetie_. We don't want you to scare them away."

My scowl deepened and I had the sudden urge to turn around and throw something at him. I could almost feel the satisfaction it would bring to see Emmet's perfectly combed head get plastered with a nearby vase. Or perhaps I could send a knife into a wall just inches away. It wouldn't be hard to do and he was always trying to get me to talk about my skills. My hand was itching to do just that and was already moving towards a set of cutlery when I felt the tiniest of shocks lace up my arm, rendering me immobile. There was a whirring as a camera above zoomed in on me and my teeth clenched with another, more powerful shock that made me see spots. _Behave, Emma Price_. It was like the faux President Snow was in the room, his thumb hovering over the bracelet's activation code.

Clenching my fists, I stiffly walked away to my rooms, feeling the effects of the bolts of electricity tighten my muscles. My hand twitched as I reached for the door knob and I watched it for a moment, sinking back into the depths of surrealism. Why was I hear? I was once a normal person, getting ready to start a new life and now I was being shocked to keep from throwing knives at people. It had barely been a week since my capture and already I no longer felt like I was the same person.

"I know what you're doing." I didn't jump at the sudden sound of Ronen's voice behind me. It wasn't a surprise that he had followed me to my rooms. He had done it ever since the first night we were on the balcony. Ronen slowly came up beside me and pressed a hand to my trembling one still on the door knob. "You want us to believe that you still won't stand a chance in the arena, that you'll be the first to go. But guess what? I don't believe in your little act, Darling." He paused and I felt his warm body stiffen beside me. "Just promise me one thing."

I hesitated, afraid my voice was going to croak. "What do you want?"

"When we're in the arena...Don't be the one to kill me." His hand slid away and he was gone, leaving me shivering in his absence. He believed I could kill him. What had I turned into?

* * *

_"Emma Price."_

The speaker above the door sounded cold when it called out my name for evaluations. Everyone else had already gone in while I waited for the hours to pass by. Inside I struggled with what I was going to do once my name was called. I contemplated not going in at all and making them come get me. There was even the possibility that I would go in and do whatever I could to escape. When my name was actually called I did neither, getting up automatically and moving towards the door with robotic motions.

The door slid shut the moment I stepped past it and the small elevator I had entered rose above where the training room was supposedly located. Confused, I watched as the door to the elevator rotated around the circular walls until it stopped on the opposite side and the elevator came to a jarring halt. A pleasant sounding beep announced our landing and the door slid open to a brightly lit room that initially blinded me. Shielding my eyes against the sudden light, I squinted into the room and made out the tall silhouette of a man staring out a large window that made up the opposite wall. There was a shove to my back and I realized that a white clad Panem soldier had accompanied me to the room and was now forcing me to enter it. Of course. Why would they ever leave me alone?

I took several steps into the room and stood there, allowing my eyes to adjust. It didn't take long before the room came into focus and the image of the powerful Capitol city filled the entire expanse of window. Sunlight was reflected off of countless spires and skyscrapers rising far into the distance, the light breaking into a multitude of glittering specks across the room. It was beautiful and stunning and was completely overshadowed by the man who stood before me, delicately sipping a crystal flute of Champagne.

"You are causing trouble for me, Emma Price." The faux President Snow said, not even bothering to turn around from the window. It was immediately apparent that I had been expected for a long time. "You did not think I would know what you were doing, but I do and let me assure you...I am not pleased."

I glared, not even giving 'playing the innocent card' a second thought. I wasn't going to play into his little games. Not when so many lives were at stake. "What did you expect? You're forcing us into a game where we either kill or be killed and you thought that we would accept this?"

The man let out a soft chuckle that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. "Oh no, Dear Emma." he said. "No, no, no, no. I wanted you to fight. What fun would it be if you were easy to get rid of, hmm?" he gestured out the window. "_They_ want to be entertained, but what you are doing is entirely different. You are making the others like yourself stronger, bringing them together to fight back, and turning them into a problem for my Careers. You have given them hope, Emma and that cannot happen."

"What are you going to do then?" I questioned nastily. "Kill me?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to as a hologram suddenly appeared in front of me. At first I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing and only watched the image play out like a little movie. My mom was sitting on the couch in our living room, a phone pressed against her ear as our TV broadcasted the CNN news channel. I saw my Dad walk in from an invisible door way and sit beside her, offering her a cup of tea which she refused. My heart thudded in my chest and I felt the emotions of the pass week threaten to overwhelm me. This was real time. They were really there.

"I just want to know why you haven't found them yet." I started as my Mom's voice permeated the room. "It's been nearly a week since they've been taken...Please, I want my children to come home." she whispered the last part and I had to draw closer to hear her. "I want them to be safe again."

"There are other ways of repressing the problem you have caused." The faux President Snow had come up behind the hologram and he stood over my parents like the angel of death. "Think of your parents, Emma. Think of what could happen to them should you continue down this path of yours."

As hard I as I tried, I couldn't keep the tears from falling and I hung my head in defeat, listening to the distant sounds of my Mother and Father who were so far away. The man approached me and I felt his papery hand rest heavily on my shoulder before forcefully lifting my face towards him. His eyes were life fire and his expression reminded me of an oncoming storm.

"Do not attempt anything." he warned icily. "I know of your brother and I promise you that if anything goes wrong I will have something very _special_ planned for his death."

I bristled at the mention of my brother and fought against him, completely disregarding his warning. _"You keep Justin out of this. If you ever touch him you will never be able to hide from me."_

Wrestling free from his grip, I managed to clip him on his chin with my fist before I felt the searing pain of the bracelet's electric current scream through my body. I collapsed, writhing on the floor with the faux President Snow angrily rubbing his bruising jaw line above me. His glass had fallen to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces, and the sickly sweet champagne soaked into the floor and into the back of my training uniform. Within moments I felt the sharp pinch of a needle in my neck and the world faded to black with the faux President Snow's stormy face being the last image I saw.


	8. Chapter 8

Sweat dripped from my face and down my back, my chest heaving as I crashed through the forest ground. I didn't know where I was going and had lost all sense of direction in the green overgrowth that tore at my clothes. Shrieks of laughter and nasty calls followed after me, drawing closer no matter how fast I ran. The ground suddenly sloped upwards and I stumbled, falling to my hands and knees.

_"There are other ways of repressing the problem you have caused."_

_"What are you going to do then? Kill me?"_

Fragments of my conversation with the faux President Snow descended on me as I scrambled to my feet and began pushing my way up the slope. I could hear the branches behind me breaking with their pursuit. An arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself into a tree my hand had been grasping just seconds before. They were getting closer. My limbs began to tremble, but I couldn't stop now. I had to run. I had to survive.

Covering my face I broke through a wall of twisting vines and brambles and found myself in a small clearing, facing a towering rock wall. There was no way around it, no way to flee to the sides. The others blocked the way behind me and were quickly closing in. I could hear their feet breaking through and their taunting laughter.

_"I know of your brother."_ The words lashed out like whips. _"If anything goes wrong I will have something very _special_ planned for his death."_

There was an awful whistling that drew goose bumps along my flesh and I felt my cheek flare as a black knife sliced past it. My drumming pulse tripled and I grasp at a face slick with hot blood just as another knife flies from the cover of trees and hits me in the shoulder. I collapse, an agonizing cry breaking from my lips when an arrow lands in my collarbone. The stone wall burns at my back and I watch the figures of my hunters draw away from the forest shadows. Justin is at their head with a long sword drawn and a cruel smile stretching his face grotesquely. I flinch away at the sight of him. This wasn't my brother.

The others stopped just a few feet away, but Justin continued forward until he was standing directly above me. His eyes glittered dangerously and he raised the sword, positioning it so that it pointed towards my heart. I am rendered motionless by the knife in my shoulder and the arrow in my collarbone, but I reach towards him with one final gasp.

"Justin."

My brother smiles and speaks with the faux President Snow's voice. _"Do not attempt anything."_

He trusts the sword down and I feel the cold steel burry itself deep inside my chest. It was like fire and ice all at once with blood spurting up around the blade. I screamed.

* * *

My eyes snap open and I roll forward with a strangled gasp, inflating my dead lungs with precious air. Coughing and inhaling at the same time, I wondered how long I had gone without breathing. I could still feel the sword sitting in my chest, the terror of my dream clinging to me like the sweat on my face. Looking around, I desperately focused on what was real in order to clear my head, but it only made things worse.

I was lying on the bed in district 12's bedroom, the sweat soaked sheets covering a body that was only clothed in undergarments. The room was dark except for a band of yellow light that leaked in from the crack beneath the door. Terror still gripped me and I tore away from the sheets, moving around the room as if I could run from my nightmare. A digital clock next to the door read 3:30pm, but I was sure it had been late evening when I had seen the faux President Snow. I pressed a hand to my head, trying to break through the fog that made it impossible to think.

The door burst open before I could make any progress and someone flipped the lights on, effectively blinding me.

"At last you are awake!" trilled a delighted voice. _Prema._ "Come now, Dearie. Enough of this standing around. It's time we prepare you for the interviews!"

Soft hands guided me to the showers and I am unceremoniously washed as if I were an animal. The steaming water had barely washed away the sweat from my body when they dragged me out and dried me vigorously. By now my eyes had adjusted to the light and I watched Prema glide around me as her two stylists dried my hair. Her painted face was drawn into an exuberant smile, revealing every polished tooth contained within. The two men briskly removed the cover of towels and Prema stepped forward to draw my chin gently up with both of her manicured hands.

"Oh you clever, _clever_ girl." she sighs, clearly happy. "You shall be my best work yet and you deserve nothing less. _A thirteen."_ she enthused and her men responded with excited squeals. I couldn't help but be reminded of piglets when they did that. "You have the entire Capitol buzzing and just think of what they'll be saying about you after tonight."

"Thirteen?" I questioned uncertainly.

Prema nodded, her smile growing wider until I thought her face was going to split in two. "You're evaluation scores of course." she told me. "Why didn't you tell us that you would be so good, Dearie? Emmet certainly should have known. Although," she paused as an afterthought struck her. "It was rather priceless, the look on his face when they revealed the scores."

"But I don't remember them revealing the scores." I protested, feeling the blood drain from my face. "And isn't a thirteen impossible?"

They had given me a thirteen. A score that was higher than any number ever given. It was an impressive score and meant a terrible, ugly death. Now all the Careers will be hunting me down as their first victim which was no doubt exactly what the faux President Snow wanted. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Well, clearly it's not." replied Prema, sounding miffed that I hadn't reacted to her compliments. "Of course you weren't there for the reveal. You were unconscious when they brought you back up. They said that you had been _tragically_ hit by two arrows on your way out, fired from malfunctioning automatic bows or something of the sort. I wasn't really paying attention."

With the slightest press of her hands, she sat me down in a waiting chair brought up by the men and went to work. I crossed my legs uncomfortably, hiding my chest with my arms as she did my makeup and the stylists curled my hair. When they had finished, Prema stood me up in front of a full length mirror while the two men retrieved the dress I would wear. She stood behind me, her wide smile still in place as she pointed out two white scars standing out against my skin. A long one sat along the corner of my left shoulder and the other traced along my collarbone, the exact locations of where I had been hit in my dream.

"There you are." she said breathlessly. "Proof of your bravery or at least that's how we will spin it. Don't worry, Dearie. Emmet has already spread the word of how _strong_ you are."

"Brilliant." I murmured, knowing the reality of the scars. "Just brilliant."

They dressed me in a dark red and black gown whose edges had been artistically burned in areas so that it resembled a glowing ember. My shoulders and back were fully exposed to reveal the scars and my skin was coated lightly with a shimmering, black dust. Stepping into the short heals they provided, I faced the mirror and stared at the dark image of who I was. It scared me to look at myself, my eyes burning bright beneath the striking black and red eye shadow and my hair pulled up from my pale face. I looked stunning and deadly and completely terrified.

"You'll be my best work yet." Prema repeated with a contented sigh.

With a beckoning hand, she led me from the room as her stylists cleaned up and brought me to the waiting elevators. Emmet and Ronen were there already, the orange man standing off to the side with a flute of champagne. It made me sick to see the sweet liquid, the simple drink bringing up the memories of my recent encounter with the faux President Snow.

"Scowling again I see." commented Emmet when we reached them. "For once it actually works, but perhaps you should tone it down a touch. Charm and smiles are the quickest way to a Sponsor's heart." He sighed heavily, a frustrated expression furrowing his brow. "Very well. Keep the scowl. You'll just have to impress them with your score. Shall we?"

He offered an arm to me as the elevator doors opened and I grudgingly accepted, grateful for the support since my knees had begun to tremble. The ride down was over swiftly and the doors opened on an empty hallway as Emmet released me to take Prema's arm instead. We followed the short hall to a large room decorated with plush couches and wide screen TVs that broadcasted The Hunger Game interviews. Every other tribute had already arrived and were either sitting down or milling about the room with anxious energy. The Captured were gathered on the far side of the room, they're whispered conversations falling short when we had entered.

"Remember to smile, Sweetie." instructed Emmet before leaving the room with Prema and the orange man. "Make them think you're their best friend, that they have your special attention. Make them love you. And Ronen? Become their next fascination. Don't let them forget your name."

They left and the great doors to the room closed behind them, locking us in. I could feel the eyes of every tribute in the room burning ragged holes into my side. It was obvious that they were all thinking about my evaluation scores and I knew that I had become their number one target.

"You look terrifying." Ronen remarked at my side and then as an after thought. "And beautiful."

"I feel sick." I replied softly.

"Don't worry about it. You're the one who got a thirteen." He sounded resentful.

Keeping my eyes forward I left Ronen's side and made my way to the back, refusing to look directly into any of the other's faces. I was careful not to look for Justin, afraid to see that he was no longer my brother and that the nightmare had come true. He could still be acting like one of the Careers, but lately I've found it difficult to believe that it was only an act. We hadn't contacted each other with more than a look here and there, the separation slowly weighing down on me.

Cheers burst forth from the screens as Ceaser Flickerman walked on stage, blowing kisses to the crowd and taking sweeping bows. The interviews were about to begin. Soon the first name was called. _Engle Arons._ A tall boy stood up, smoothing a hand over fiery red hair and winking at a Career girl he had been lounging with. Silence settled over us once more when he left and I turned my back on the room, focusing on the wall in front of me as I tried to breathe.

"So that's it then?" asked a harsh voice from behind. "You're just going to walk away and forget that the last three days ever happened?"

Clenching my fists I faced Clayton who had come up with the rest of the Captured and now closed me in against the wall. Each of them stared at me as if I had betrayed them. It was immediately apparent that Clayton was the most furious out of all of them and was the one leading the confrontation. He glared at me with his arms crossed over his chest and I couldn't help feeling myself growing aggravated.

"Well?" he questioned nastily. "Aren't you going to say something? Aren't you going to give us a speech about hope and sticking together? Or is it that the great Emma Price is too good for us now?"

I scowled. "What is this about Clayton?"

"You know exactly what this is about, Price." He spat my name as if it were a curse. "This is about how you played the valiant little leader all the way up to where you screwed me and everyone else over." Clayton took a step forward until we were only inches apart. I could feel the tension between us, the energy building up so that it was almost tangible. "But that was the plan, wasn't it?"

"Step back." I growled, shoving him away from me. "You don't know what you're even talking about."

Clayton pushed me against the wall, continuing as if he didn't hear me. "You fed us all your perfect lies while planning to get the highest score in end, right? _A thirteen._ You must be proud. I mean it makes sense, doesn't it? You get top spot and the rest of us get left at the bottom to be easily killed off."

Something inside me snapped and before I realized what had happened I had Clayton pressed against the wall with his arm twisted behind his back. My forearm dug into his neck and my knee held his lower half in place. We were beginning to attract the Careers' attention, but Clayton didn't care. Neither did I.

He chuckled harshly, rotating his head to the side. "Oh! Not so nice, are we? Not when the truth comes out."

"Do you really think I want this score?" I hissed. "I'm dead because of that score, Clayton. When we're out there and the Careers start hunting, I'll be the first on their list."

"For an alliance maybe, but not to be killed. Oh no! You left that spot for us!"

A supervisor was fighting their way through the gathered crowd now, flanked on both sides by two guards. "Tributes should be reminded that inner conflicts are not allowed until the Games-" He began tittering anxiously.

"Shut up." Clayton and I snarled, cutting him off before returning our attentions back to each other.

"Face it, Price." said Clayton bitingly. "You might have started out like the rest of us, but now you're no better than they are. So the question is, who are you going to kill first?"

You could have heard a pin drop and I looked up to finally meet the faces of everyone around me. The Captured looked like they did on the first day, terrified, alone and without someone to lead them. Everything we had worked for had fallen apart so quickly and I didn't have to wonder long before I realized how this happened. The faux President Snow. He did this. He had turned them all against me just within one night. So this was how he fixed the little problem I had caused in his plan. Of course.

The interviews continued to play in the background, but it was just white noise to me now. Realizing how hard I was restraining Clayton I abruptly let go of him and backed away. I didn't have to push through the others, both the Captured and Careers parting as I passed.

"You told us to play it safe, Price." Clayton called after me._ "We listened to you and you screwed us all over!"_

I began to shake, feeling as if I were going to collapse at any moment. Ronen stood in the very back, a look of concern in his dark eyes. He stopped me with a hand to the elbow and I almost fell right then and there.

"What did he mean _'like the rest of us'_?" Ronen asked softly. "Emma, what's going on?"

"Emma Price, please prepare to go on stage." announced the supervisor, nervously wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

"Nothing." I told Ronen darkly. "It means nothing."

Shaking off his hand, the four guards brought me to the doors that would lead to the stage and I allowed myself to be guided through, leaving the hostile room behind. The sounds of the roaring crowd met me before I reached the stage and I stepped out into the blinding lights as Ceaser Flickerman announced my name. _Emma Price, the female tribute from District 12._


	9. Chapter 9

My eyes adjusted to the stage lights and I saw the crowds of vibrant Capitolites surge to their feet, cheering madly until they were red in the face. Seated on a raised stage were the tributes' handlers and stylists and I could clearly see Emmet motioning for me to smile. Raised far above the rest was the gamemaker's balcony where they sat without moving, completely solemn in my entrance. The faux President Snow was not with them, but I knew that he would be watching. A tight smile pulled at my lips when a camera zoomed in on me, broadcasting my face all over the mysterious Panem. If Snow wanted a show then I would give him a show.

Taking the edges of my ember dress, I dipped a fluid curtsey towards the crowd, never letting them leave my gaze and earning their loud appreciation. Twin bursts of fire and black smoke erupted on each side of me, giving the curtsey a better effect than I could ever imagine. I could hear the audience's voice crack at the extra pyro and smiled at how incredibly stupid they were. So easy to please. If only they knew the truth. How would they react if they found out that their precious tributes were kidnapped children from another country, a _real_ country? Would they be so willing to cheer them on to their deaths? Something told me that wouldn't be the case.

"Emma Price, everyone!" crowed the imitation Flickerman.

He came towards me and raised me from my curtsey with a hand, spinning me around to the crowd's undying delight. I allowed him to lead me past a row of chairs lining the stage to where the interview was to be conducted, listening as the audience fought to catch their breath. Engle Arons was already seated, watching me with bright eyes like that of a hungry beast eyeing his next meal. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and I could feel a sticky perspiration gather across my exposed back. It was a relief when I was allowed to sit as I had begun to feel that my legs would give out at any second.

Flickerman passes a hand over a vibrant purple coiffed hair and gives the cameras a smile that looks almost grotesque. "Now that was an entrance, wasn't it?" he asked exuberantly. It took a moment for him to calm the crowds again, but I could tell that he enjoyed their reactions. When they were quieted once more, he swivelled his chair to face me. "Emma, you seemed very confident coming out. Could you tell us your secret?"

"The dress helps." I replied truthfully. "It gives me a certain amount of confidence." I paused, calculating my next move, knowing that the crowds wanted to fall in love with me. "Plus, it helps that the skirt is long enough to hide my knocking knees. Do you ever feel what it's like to be nervous and excited all at once?"

Flickerman smiled warmly and there was a twittering of chuckles from the crowd. Excellent.

"All the time!" he said. "Especially when I am around food!" He received an acknowledgement of boisterous laughter and I allowed a calculated, shy, smile to trace my lips. "You have nothing to be nervous about, my dear." Flickerman told me, taking up my hand and patting it. "Out of all the tributes you are the only one to be granted a thirteen in evaluations. That has never been done before! Can you tell us anything, _anything_ about it?"

I glance nervously up at the gamemakers' grave stares and swallowed against a dry throat. "Only-Only that I came away with a couple of scars for souvenirs."

"Yes, of course." said Flickerman, his voice lowering dramatically. "You must be very strong to go through that. It sounds like it would have been very painful."

"It was nothing. I barely felt a thing." I hesitated before going on, taking another calculated risk. "I was actually more worried someone else was harmed in the process."

"You have a very protective nature, don't you Emma?" I nodded in response, wary of where this was going. "Could that perhaps be connected to a younger sibling in your family?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Oh yes." said Flickerman. "Yes it is."

My skin prickled and for a moment I saw the faux President Snow in his eyes. He knew. Flickerman knew all about us and he was willing to be a part of it. The man leaned forward in his chair with his grotesque smile, his thumb lightly grazing the edge of my bracelet.

"Just hypothetically...What would you do if your sibling were ever put in danger?" he asked and a chill ran through me.

The cameras zoomed in even further, probably catching a close up image of my face and the coming reaction. I could almost feel the crowd leaning in, their greedy faces eagerly awaiting my reply. Flickerman was still watching me, his painted face expectant, but I didn't turn to him. My smile faded and I felt my jaw harden as I turned to stare directly into the nearest camera. For the first time I actually felt dangerous and I wanted Snow to see this. I wanted him to know that I hadn't forgotten my threats.

"I would do everything I could to save them." I said. "Then I would kill whoever put them in danger."

Flickerman's eyes grew cold, but he did not lose his fake smile. "Then I'd say it's a good thing you don't have any siblings competing in the this years games." he told me. "Because I can see that nothing will be able to stop you."

He raised me from my seat and turned me towards a subdued audience who all stared at me in awe. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Prema sniffling into a handkerchief and Emmet sitting in stunned silence. For a moment I wondered if I had scared them and if the not so subtle threat would put me in even further danger. Then it happened. One by one the audience members stood up, slowly beginning to cheer and call out to me, chanting my name as if it were an anthem. My name rolled across them like the waves of an ocean, growing stronger as I was led to the seat next to Engle. Before I was allowed to sit down, Flickerman thrust our joined hands into the air and the crowd erupted into a full blown cheering.

"Emma Price!" he cried, his voice barely reaching above the noise. "The district twelve tribute and the girl who cannot be stopped!"

"We'll see how well your name holds up in the arena." whispered Engle in my ear once I was seated. "It would be such a shame if we marked that pretty face of yours."

"A shame for you or for me?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

He grinned, giving me a full view of his teeth. "Let's say both, shall we Darling?"

His teeth clicked when he spoke and I noticed for the first time that they were edged in some sort of metal. I repressed a shiver and turned my attentions towards the centre of the stage where Caitlyn Summers was being introduced. The captured tribute trembled before the roaring crowd, any confidence she might have gained in the past now drained from her. She had regressed back to the first day we had met and she clutched at an arm that had regained its shiny redness from the electric bracelet. She looked at me and I saw hurt in her eyes, a betrayed trust. What had Snow done to break apart the Captured's union within a night? I felt ostracized, thrown out and abandoned by the only ones I thought I could trust.

It was the same with every Captured called forth for their interview. I could hear it in their voices, see it in the way they looked at me. The only one who did not react to who I was, was Justin. He didn't even look at me. He just spoke with Flickerman as if he were always a part of Panem and was playing up the excited tribute ready to enter the arena. I decided then that he was no longer my brother. Justin had changed to fit Panem's views and I could no longer hold onto the hope that he would ever be the same boy I had grown to love. Then again, was I still the same or had I been playing into Snow's games all along? I couldn't tell anymore.

With a flourish of a hand from Flickerman, I stood as one with the other twenty three tributes lined up along the stage and faced the Capitol. An anthem played around us and the cheers thundered across the stage, but I barely heard it. This was it. This was who we were. Twenty four tributes about to enter the Hunger Games and no one was going to stop us. No one was going to come and save us. We stood alone now and nothing could get in our way.

* * *

_"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the tributes of the eight annual Hunger Games!"_

Sally stared at the television in stunned silence, her hand shaking around a remote she had been clutching the entire time. The twenty four tributes-No. The twenty four _teenagers_ all bowed in unison and the purple haired man waved them to the crowd who cheered themselves hoarse. David sat beside her, unmoving as if he had been turned to stone. A great weight had settled across them and it was hard to move, hard to even breath in the space that had seemed to tighten around them.

The remote finally fell from her fingers, clattering to the ground where it burst open and released its contained batteries. Their television flickered out to suddenly be replaced by a video of the man who had addressed them earlier when their entire world had begun to fall apart. His cool eyes glared out at them and Sally knew that every screen in the world contained his image.

_"The time has come for your tributes to enter the Hunger Games."_ He said, contempt dripping in his voice. _"You have tried and failed to save them. You have tried and failed to find me. Know now that this is the end of your world and the beginning of mine. No one is safe from my reach. Let the Hunger Games begin and may the odds be ever in my favour."_

The man's image dissolved away from their television, returning it to the original broadcast of the Secretary of Defence addressing the nation. He appeared visibly shaken, his previous speech having been cut off when the networks were once again taken over by the mysterious man. Roger Wilson glanced down at his notes as if to collect himself and then gripped the edges of his podium. He raised grave eyes that held a steady resolution Alice and David had never seen before.

_"This man has captured our children, taken away the safety of our homes, and endangered this nation's freedom."_ He began, his voice dangerous and cold. _"As of this moment the United States of America are at war with the ones who call themselves Panem. God bless America. God Bless the human race."_

**_ End of Transmission_  
_End of Part I_**


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: Just a quick thank you to all those who have left reviews and/or followed my fanfiction _"Captured Tribute."_ Don't be afraid to continue sharing and letting me know what you think!**

**Also: I do not own any ideas involving _The Hunger Games. All rights reserved to the wonderful Suzanne Collins._**

* * *

**Part II**

**Let The Games Begin**

I didn't sleep that night. How could I when the Hunger Games were only hours away? It all seemed impossible and yet here I was, waiting to be slaughtered for the entertainment of a sick man who believed himself to be a puppet master of lives. I felt empty and sick and completely hopeless. I missed them, my family, and I wondered what they were doing at this moment. Of course they would know that my brother and I were missing, but did they know of the Hunger Games? Was I going to die and have no one I cared about know? Perhaps that would be best. I wouldn't want them to know what had become of us. Maybe then they could still have hope of our return.

The thin mattress pressed against me and I turned over in the near dark to stare at the grey, metal ceiling of the holding room. I had been brought here along with the rest of the Captured the moment we stepped foot off the interview stage. Like animals they had herded us onto a waiting aircraft that had no windows to show us where we were. They had injected us with the trackers and dressed us in the blue robes from when we were first kidnapped. None of us spoke then and I never looked for my brother among the other twelve. As hard as I tried to ignore it I knew that we were all different now. We had, in a way, accepted our fate and had given up all hope for a rescue.

Soldiers had placed blindfolds over our eyes and had escorted us from the aircraft to our rooms. I couldn't hear or see a thing and I felt utterly lost. The one chance I thought I had at finding out where we were was, in one action, taken away from me. After the guards had guided me to a stop I had felt them remove the bracelet from around my wrist and then retreat. I was allowed to take the blindfold away myself and then I saw the holding cell with the bed, the mirror, and the entrance tube to the arena. It looked just like what I had seen in the movie, except now it was real.

The door to the room opened suddenly and the lights came on, but I remained lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. So they had decided to unlock my door now that I couldn't get away. Well, let them come. At least my last few hours of life can be a struggle for them. I wasn't about to allow them to prepare me for death.

I felt the end of my bed bend with the weight of someone sitting down next to me. For one, fleeting moment I hoped that it might be Ronen, but I banished this hope quickly. _Don't become attached. Don't get connected. Get connected and you're dead._ Those were the last words of wisdom Emmet had given to me and for once I had to agree with them. No one could be trusted now, because the moment we entered that arena we will all be fighting for our own lives.

A soft hand took mine and gently persuaded me to sit up. It wasn't Ronen who sat before me now, but Prema and in her lap was the neatly folded uniform I was to wear in the arena. Her smile was small and half-hearted, like she actually cared what happened to me, but I knew it to be a lie. Liars. The lot of them were rotten liars controlled by the faux President Snow. Maybe Prema didn't know, but that still couldn't change how I viewed her or anyone else in this false Capitol.

"Come along, dearie." she urged softly, pulling me from my last comfort to stand on the cold floor. "It's time."

I dress quickly and silently, refusing the plate of food Prema offers me, feeling too sick to actually eat. At the last minute I take a roll to nibble on as she puts my hair up, knowing that my survival could only be helped by having food in my stomach. The woman was equally silent which was unusual since more so than not she was bubbling over with rapid, excited speech. Perhaps she could sense the darkness I felt welling up inside me the closer the hour came for me to leave. Perhaps she actually had a heart and couldn't bear to see her little pet, her greatest achievement yet, slaughtered. Either way I welcomed the silence for a change.

Wrapping a long braid into a bun at the back of my head, she secured my hair with several long pins that were sharp enough to scratch my scalp and draw blood. I grimace, fidgeting uncomfortably as the needles dug into me and look into the mirror to see Prema watching me closely. The moment she catches my eye, she shows me another long pin and brushes her lips mischievously with a single finger before placing the pin into my hair. I smile slightly. So she was allowing me to go into the arena a little more prepared than the rest. Clever.

An invisible speaker announces the five minute warning before I had to be loaded into the tube's elevator. I nearly lose it then and I know that Prema could see the fear in my eyes. She doesn't say anything and neither do I. What would there be to say? _Good luck. Kill them all. Become the last remaining tribute._ Somehow I just couldn't find comfort in that.

Two minutes to go and Prema helps me into a jacket lined with cotton and fitted with several hidden pockets. She zips me up half way and then takes me firmly by the shoulders, looking me over with cautious eyes. I knew it was coming, The encouraging words that would only make things worse. I could already hear them now. Gently, Prema pulls me into a warm hug, pressing a blushing cheek securely against my pale one.

"You will do well." she says very loudly. "Everyone will love you."

_"One minute until tribute boarding."_ announces the speaker.

At that moment Prema's grip becomes hard and I am restrained so close to her body that I could feel her rapid heart beat. Her hot breath fans my exposed neck and she draws her mouth close to my ear. Her voice is barely above a whisper, but I can hear every word and it feels like the ground drops out beneath me.

"I know."

I try to react, but she keeps me motionless. "Listen carefully." she says quickly. "I will do everything I can to get you out of here. You and your brother. Don't say a word."

Prema pulls back with her usual wide grin, but her eyes remain the same, carrying the words she had just spoken. With a hand she guides me to the tube and helps me step in seconds before the door closes. My heart races as what she had said at last settles on me and I break, pressing myself against the tube as if I could somehow escape through it. With a hand I hammer the glass as she watches, her face twitching with the effort to keep up her appearance.

"How do you know?" I scream, my words echoing back to me. "Who are you?" The tube begins to rise and I sink to my knees to keep at eye level with her. "Please don't do this! Tell me where are! _Tell me where we are!"_

There was only a sliver of space left before I was engulfed by the ceiling, but I manage to catch Prema mouth just four words. _Look. To. The. Stars._ She is blocked from my vision and I stare in stunned silence into the darkness that had taken her place. _She knew._ _How could she know?_ I look up quickly at the sound of a metallic whirring and see a metal door open up above me, bathing me in a bright light. There is the sound of wind and birds and the buzzing of insects and I slowly stand to face the approaching arena.

I emerge as one with the other twenty three tributes and face a wide, open plateau that held the black cornucopia filled with everything we might need. On all sides the plateau drops into a hilly terrain that spread out into forests and valleys with silver rivers snaking throughout. Rocky cliffs rose to my right and encircled us like a crescent moon, spilling out twenty four water falls that gleamed in the bright sun above. Clouds and a variety of birds grace the azure sky while the calls of hidden creatures reverberate from the forests below. So this was the arena. A paradise to the fool's eye.

Turning my focus to the cornucopia, I track out the things that I would need the most to survive. A majority of it lay within the shadows of the cornucopia, but to my left, just a little ways in, was a sizable bag with a sack of apples not far away. I didn't look for any weapons, knowing that they would be too close to be worth it. Besides, I still wasn't much for killing, no matter how badly my life depended on it.

The countdown begins and I shift my stance just like most everyone else around me. I hear a whimper to my right and I pause, noticing Caitlyn quivering close to the edge of her platform. She is clutching at both her arms and tears are streaming down a face that is blotchy from hours of crying. With another whimper Caitlyn takes step towards the edge and I suddenly realize exactly what her intentions were. I jolt towards her, stopping just in time before I stepped of my platform onto the mines that were most likely buried in the ground. Cautiously I raise a hand out to her and grab her attention.

"Caitlyn, don't do it." I tell her. "It's not worth it."

"I can't do this." she sobs, her voice breaking. "I can't do this-We are all going to die no matter what."

I can see the others stop and take notice of us, but I ignore them, concentrating on keeping Caitlyn alive.

"Please," I beg. "We can get through this."

She meets my gaze and takes another step. "They told me that you left us and that we were going to die...I'm going to die."

"Caitlyn, think about your family." I'm desperate now, but I know I can't move to save her. "Think about what surviving would mean for them."

"It's over, Emma." she says, taking her final step off her platform. "It has always been over."

_"Caitlyn no!"_

Her foot barely touches the ground before the hidden mines are detonated and I watch in horror as everything she is, everything she was, is consumed in the resulting explosion. The force of it pushes me back a step and I am nearly knocked off my platform only to regain my footing at the last second. There are torn sobs from several of the others that are quickly cut short by the ringing in my ears. Muffled thumps reach me as the smoke clears and I turn away feeling sick when what was left of the girl returns to earth. I swallow hard and feel my ears pop to hear the final seconds of the countdown tick by.

_Ten._

Shock causes my muscles to spasm and I clench my fists.

_Nine._

I tear my eyes away from the ground and once more find the waiting pack.

_Eight._

_'They told me that you left us,'_ Caitlyn's words burned into me, starting a quiet fire that rolled in my chest. _'And that we were going to die.'_

_Seven._

So this was your plan, Snow. You take everything away from us and then you tell us to give up.

_Six._

You tell us to back down.

_Five._

To die.

_Four._

That wasn't going to be me. I wasn't going to be controlled by him any longer. This was the arena and anything could happen.

_Three._

_Two._

My eyes travel away from the pack for a split second and I find the gleaming hilt of a silver sword glinting in the grass. I press my lips together until they are numb and quickly make up my mind.

_One._

A gong sounds from far above and I sprint towards the cornucopia, biting back a tight smile trying to force its way out. _Let the games begin._


	11. Chapter 11

Chaos erupts around me even before the sound of the gong peters out and I could hear the cries of battle that marked the beginning of the Games. This was it. This would be where the first part of my fate would be decided. Whether I would die here at the Cornucopia or live on to survive the ultimate blood bath. My focus remains on the sword even as I see darting figures take notice out of my peripheral. I duck instinctively and hear a whistling pass above me from a flying a knife thrown by someone to my right.

Breathless and my heart racing, I reach the sword and desperately grab for it even as I see a Career girl charging me with a sword of her own. I'm jerked to the ground by the unmoving sword and I see that it had been secured to the ground by metal stakes hammered into the hard dirt. It seemed that someone out there didn't want to make this easy for me. They knew I would go for the sword and they wanted to make sure that I could struggle just long enough to be skewered. It was a shame I had to disappoint them, but seeing as I was fighting for my life it just couldn't be helped.

Using the blade of the sword as a lever, I quickly loosen the clasps from the ground and remove the sword with a satisfying ring. I roll to my back and raise the weapon just in time to block the girl's attack, our blades colliding in a jolt that produces hot sparks. She sneers down at me and I suddenly recognize her as Justin's female tribute counterpart. The girl doesn't say a word and quickly counters her move, forcing me to block her yet again. I strain against her as she presses down with all her weight on our joined blades, knowing that if I could not get up I would be dead within seconds.

Kicking out with a foot, I cause her to drop her sword and scramble to my knees to swiftly aim my blade towards her heart, ready to deliver the final blow. She is rendered immobile as I had kicked her chest and drove out all air from her lungs. A perfect target and an easy kill. About to thrust forward, I stop and stare into her face, surprised to see a flicker of fear register in her ice blue eyes. I realize that my face is turned up in an ugly snarl and I flinch away from her. I was going to kill. I _would_ have killed her if I had not seen her fear. A fear that I knew all to well.

"Go ahead." she snarls, her voice rough as she gasped for breath. "Do it. Show the Capitol who you are-"

She stops abruptly and lurches forward in surprise, specks of blood splattering her shirt from her gasping mouth. Shocked I look down at her torso, afraid that I had killed her, and see a silver arrow head sprouting from between her collar bone and neck. Hot blood steams on my skin as it drips down from her fatal wound and I watch, as if in a dream, the dying girl fall onto my sword. Her cool eyes never leave my gaze and I hear the awful, slick sound of her body sliding along my blade towards the hilt I continue to grasp. She gasps once and then dies, her limp body slumping over onto my shoulder. Terrified, I look up to see Engle Arons aiming his bow again only to be tackled by one of the Captured. Just to his right I watch as Justin turns around at the edge of the Cornucopia and notice the dead girl on the end of my sword and for the first time his expression is horrified.

I don't have time to stop and think. The blood bath is still rampaging around me and it was only a matter of time before I became someone else's target. Shakily, I shove the girl from my blade and run for the edge of the hill, grabbing a discarded and bloody bag from a fallen tribute on the way. Reaching the beginning of the hills I feel something hit me and wrap around my lower legs, causing me to pitch forward and roll down the hill leading away from the Cornucopia.

Flat grounds eventually cause my decent to cease and I find myself at the very edge of a dark forest that I had seen from the top of the hill. An arrow lodges itself solidly into a tree trunk and I see several figures pursuing me down the face of the hill, their hungry calls tearing away from the rest of those on top. Hurriedly I work at the weighted cords tying my legs, managing to throw them off and disappear into the tight trees just as the others levelled out. Stumbling through the thick brush, I untangle the cords I still held and find my way up a slight rise before pausing to get my bearings.

The dark woods were too close for me to see anything helpful, but I could hear the others who were still in pursuit not far behind. I find a pairing of sturdy trees and stretch the length of cord between them, securing the crude trap with the weights at their ends. There is a flash of movement from the direction I had just come from and I quickly escape up the rest of the short rise towards a grouping of large boulders. Arriving at the forefront of the massive rocks, I spare a glance behind me and see a couple of Careers become clotheslined by my trap, their flailing bodies entangling with their companions who were close behind.

I chuckle loudly before I can stop myself only to cut short when I see the group of tributes quickly recover, their dirty faces livid. Ducking behind the rocks, I dart between the formations of stone I find myself in, mentally kicking myself for not getting out of there sooner. Rock splinters fly out from my left and right as my hunters shoot at me with whatever weapons they possess. Swallowing against the fear working its way into a tight knot in my throat, I round a corner and feel rough arms catch me from the side, pinning my arms together. A large hand smothers me when I try to scream out of pure terror and I am dragged back from the open into a craggy crevice of stone.

Shadows engulf me and I watch from the sliver of the stone's opening as the group of tributes pass where I had been, eagerly calling for my blood without realizing they had lost me. Without warning I am pulled beneath a ledge of rock and I tumble down a small hill covered in the rotting leaves of the forest. Gasping at the sweet air, I tighten my grip on my sword and turn around to face who ever had grabbed me, keeping my blade pointed at their throat. I freeze when I see who it is and I feel my limbs begin to tremble as the burst of adrenaline slowly seeped away from me.

"Ronen?" I rasp, confused. "I thought you said you wouldn't kill me."

The young man grimaced in annoyance, looking pointedly at the sword on his neck. "Does it look like I'm trying to kill you? I just saved your life, Darling."

Slowly I lower my sword, still unsure what to believe. "You also said you wouldn't save me." I tell him.

"That's one hell of an apology." He grunts, rubbing his neck. "But you're right. Just count this as a one time thing and we never have to see each other again."

"Except in hell."

He smirks and cups my face with a hand, catching me off guard. Swiftly he leans in and brushes aside the hair from my ear, his hot breath blowing softly against my neck.

"We are in hell, Emma." Ronen whispers.

There is a rustling from the bushes beside us and he stiffens as I grip my sword with clammy hands. Turning towards the sound I feel Ronen's lips graze my jaw line before he vanishes, leaving me to face the threat alone. My heart thuds and my face feels like it is on fire, but I refuse to move. Silently I battle myself on whether or not I could kill for my life and then a lone figure bursts forth, collapsing to the ground just in time to avoid the blade. A young man rolls onto his stomach and tries to scramble away, but I tackle him and force him to look at me. For the second time in so many minutes I am surprised by who I find at the end of my sword, only this time I allow the weapon to fall from my grasp.

"Mother of God, Emma." pants Justin as I quickly back away from him. "I thought you were going to kill me right then and there."

"I thought you were one of them." I reply as if it were a valid response to almost killing him. "I didn't know it was you."

"Well I've got to say you really made me think you were a Career." He swallows nervously and I see his gaze rest briefly on the discarded sword.

My trembling limbs return and I am caught between the instinct to run and the deep desire to embrace my brother. Justin looks up at me and then slowly rises, lifting his hands into the air as an act of surrender, like he was unsure of what I would do. Suddenly his serious expression breaks and he grins at me, reminding me of the little brother I had grown up with. It triggers a welcoming reaction and I throw myself into his arms, allowing him to embrace my shaking body. Even then I felt the small of my back tingle as it was exposed to any attack that might come my way. Breathing in Justin's familiar scent I realize that I no longer trust him and that at the same time he felt the same way. We were different now. No longer a close brother and sister, but strangers. How could this happen? How could they do this to us?

"Do you think they're watching us right now?" Justin murmurs, hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

I look past his shoulder and stare hard into the dark forest surrounding us. Every tree, every branch, stump and rock...It was all a threat to me.

"They're always watching." I reply quietly.

"Then perhaps we should get moving before they become too interested."

I pull back and meet his bright blue eyes. "Are we staying together now?"

Justin bends down and picks up my sword, weighing it in his hands before handing it back to me. "Always." he assures. "Just...Tell me one thing. Why did you kill Lyra?"

"Lyra?" I question, slightly confused.

"The girl at the Cornucopia. She was my female tribute." he explains grimly. "Don't get me wrong. I mean I'm glad you're the one who is still alive, but Emma...I saw you pull your sword from her chest."

I glance at my blade and see that it is still smeared with fresh blood. Noticing how Justin is carefully avoiding looking at it, I quickly swipe it across the ground and slide it into the cinched opening of my stolen bag. I remember the girl's blood still on my face and rub it off with an arm before addressing Justin. He still seemed unwilling to look at me and I remember the look of horror he had when he saw me with the dead girl. Of course he thought I had killed her. Even then I had thought I had accidentally killed her.

"I just never thought," Justin continues softly. "I mean I never would have said you were a killer."

"I didn't kill her, Justin." I tell him, feeling hurt that he would even think that. "I know what it looked like, but I swear she just fell on my sword. That boy, Engle? He was the one who shot her first." I pause and try to look him in the eye, but he avoids me. "You don't believe me?"

He struggles to meet my gaze and I can see the doubt in his eyes, but he takes my hand and gives it a reassuring press. "I believe you, Emma."

We look up suddenly towards the rock formation as we hear a set of cannons going off, one after the other. The ground trembles with the sound and I can't help counting them, feeling an awful sickness as the number continued to increase. At last the last of cannons fade into silence and I glance at Justin whose mouth is pressed into a thin line.

"Eleven." Justin murmurs, starting off in the other direction. I quickly fall in step with him, keeping my hand wrapped tightly around his. "How many of ours do you think made it?" he questions darkly.

"Do you want the optimistic response?" I ask. "Or do you want an honest one?"

"Honest." he replies after a long pause.

"We're probably the only ones left."

He frowns. "That's what I thought."


End file.
